to speak for me to understand that she saw everything while I slept. Everything.
I groan, and pain radiates along my midsection. She’s putting on her jacket, moving toward the door. There are words trying to come out of me, but even breathing feels like it tears the wound deeper. Nothing leaves my mouth but a cruel gurgling sound.
Sasha opens the door and someone’s standing in the hallway. Someone tall, with long greasy hair. At first she looks terrified; then she nods at him and shoots me a glare that is two parts rage and one part regret.
And then she’s gone.
The man that I watched cut open Moishe’s head strides up to the couch and smiles down at me with long, rotting teeth.
“Hello, Sarco,” I say.
“Hello, my son.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Get away from me.” It doesn’t sound very convincing coming from a man with a shard of steel in his gut, but it’s all I got. Some supernatural entity types really respond well to basic instructions.
Not Sarco.
“They named you Carlos Delacruz. How interesting.”
I squint at him, partially through the pain but also because it’s such a cryptic and absurd thing to say. Yes, they named me Carlos. The fuck? “They named you Sarco.”
He laughs, a hoarse and humorless gargle. “One of many names I’m known by, yes.”
“What’s so interesting about my name?”
“Who gave it to you?”
Ugh. I don’t feel like playing twenty fucking questions with this junky while I’m all speared up. “I don’t know, man. Riley, I guess.”
He just nods, smirking.
Great. Now what? I try to relax into the moment. There is, after all, not a single goddamn motherfucking thing I can do to make my situation any better. But getting even remotely comfortable is out of the question. Sarco rolls within a sour cloud of dread. I can feel it all over my body like it’s some contagion; the feeling grows as he gets closer. My muscles tighten involuntarily, and all my damn hairs stand tall. Everything inside me screams to run, rebelling against the obvious physical impediments. Just fucking go, my body begs me. Blade in your gut be damned. Just go.
“Stop fighting it.”
“What?”
The man is full of surprising and random things to say; I’ll give him that.
“Stop fighting. That feeling you have, it’s not me; it’s you.”
I’m forced to squint at him again, because I don’t know what else to say. I haven’t quite worked up the nerve to be as rude as I feel like being, so instead I just make faces and pant. I’m pretty sure the blade has blocked off whatever major blood vessel it sliced. From what I can tell, I’m not actively bleeding, but I suspect that breathing slightly wrong or, God forbid, chuckling, would jostle it just so and lead to instant exsanguination. Which might be better than whatever Sarco has planned for me, but still . . . I’d like to live.
“I don’t . . . understand what . . . the fuck . . . you’re talking about, Sarco.”
He flashes that toothy smile, and I seriously consider dislodging the blade and opting for the quick out. “That horrible feeling you have when I come near.”
“What about it?”
“It’s your resistance. Your fear, Carlos.”
“I’m not afraid.” I even manage to say it with a steady voice.
He laughs again. “Your body is. And you’re in shock. Concentrate on calming down your body. I’m not going to hurt you. You may not believe me, but it would help you stop shivering if you did.”
I am shivering, dammit, but I figured that was from the stab wound more than anything else. I take a deep, very careful breath and let it out. I believe he’s not going to hurt me, not yet anyway, for the simple fact that he’s already had plenty of opportunity. Surely down the road, I’m in for some torture, but for now, I’m probably relatively safe. Also, cringeworthy though it is, he’s right: allowing the wretchedness to rule me is not helping. Another deep breath and I’m somewhat calmer.
“There,” Sarco says in a chillingly soothing voice. “That’s better.”
I shake my head, very carefully, because nothing’s really better. I’m just more prepped for whatever nefarious nastiness he has planned. Fine, so be it.
“Relax, Carlos. I have a proposal for you. Very simple. Very easy. I need your help.”
“Seeing as I’m in a terrific position to negotiate, by all means, out with it.”
“Excellent.” I wish he wouldn’t grin though, seriously. I remember Sasha’s strange story about Sarco trying to recruit her, but then I